The Wykehamist
curvature of the earth behind the armies to express the sense of scale Altdorfer wished to project, as well as pointing out the geographical incoherencies that were born out of the dubious knowledge Altdorfer was presented with. It is a seismic image.
Of course, no evening is complete without a good mystery. Thomas Grange presents us with a smoking gun; The War Elephant, a privately-owned piece possibly by the Dutch painter Hieronymus Bosch( 1450-1516). To see if this could be the original Bosch, he chases breadcrumbs through other works of art which capture the work’ s central elephant and other motifs, all the way back to Bosch’ s hometown in the Netherlands. Whatever the result, it is evident that Bosch’ s original really had kickstarted a sprawling collection of War Elephants around Europe, portraying a society collectively captivated by art. It is tantalising to consider that the painting could be a Bosch, but can we really be sure? Thomas indulges in the journey, not letting the penny drop until the very end, yet the conclusion, at long last, is only a maybe. And thus, one must ask, dear reader of The Wykehamist in centuries’ time— do you know the answer yet?
Over the course of the evening, many questions have been posed, inviting the audience over and over again to confront the meaning of artwork, yet Jad Darkazally( D, 21-) is determined to answer them once and for all— he suggests that we do not have to master a work of art to appreciate it, but should rather experience it.‘ It’ s easy to dismiss abstract art as pretentious, especially when it refuses to explain itself.’ Cue Enchanted Forest( 1947) by Jackson Pollock. It is impossible to grapple with. It is not even the right way up. He rights it, and it suddenly begins to take on a sense of form. Ferrying us from the Parisian avant-garde movement in shattered post-war Europe across the pond to New York, he introduces us to Pollock. However, he is not the American mystique whom the media portrays— the alcoholic, the wanderer, the depressive who finds expression in movement and colour, crawling off the canvas what he cannot with words— but a regular man obsessed with the technicalities of art, indulging in influences from Mexican muralism to Navajo sand paintings. It is this honed craft, not the hallucinations of madman, that allows for the effectiveness of the final product. He takes us into the forest, and
suddenly we are there. We see images that are not at first obvious, but are embedded somehow within these abstract shapes and in our minds. Now, we begin to get a sense of what it captures. We are shown that art does not have to be a question we can answer; it can expressly resist our having the last word.‘ Not to be decoded as much as experienced’; we have been mesmerised by the emotive essence of this gesture and rhythm. We feel as if we know Pollock, and maybe something his painting points to in ourselves, even if we cannot express it. We are enchanted indeed.
Now comes the most anticipated presentation of all— the adjudication. Jo Baring, Director of the Ingram Collection, takes her place. The room’ s breath is paralysed. Above her, halfway through Act IV, the cast of The Tempest come and go like apparitions. In her introductory speech, she highlights the power of human art in an increasingly artificial world. So, whose art was the most powerful? Anna Nott claims the bronze medal, and Thomas Dunn silver. And finally, the most coveted honour of all goes to Thomas Grange, especially for his curiosity, connoisseurship and original scholarship.
Nonetheless, overall, it has been an incredible standard of presentations this year. Indeed, they have made us think, and they have made us look, and look again.
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